


Drawing Circles

by lilferret



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilferret/pseuds/lilferret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn’t about him.  This was about giving Ianto what he needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawing Circles

**Author's Note:**

> This was a random idea about Ianto’s fascination with Jack’s hands. Originally posted 2/10/11.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

His eyes opened slowly and he waited as they adjusted to the dark of the room. It always took a moment to find his bearings when he slept at the hub. He was comfortable, warm, and he could hear the slight hum of Tosh’s computer and the trickle of the water tower through the hatch above him.

He turned slowly to his back and then onto his other side, snuggling closer to the warm man who lay beside him. He buried his face in Jack’s neck, breathing him in and smiling when he felt Jack’s arm tighten around him.

“You’re awake,” Ianto murmured, eyes once again closed as he pressed a kiss to Jack’s throat. It was too early to get up. He didn’t have to look at a clock to know it couldn’t even be three in the morning. He’d grown accustomed to the sounds of the hub and he could tell Myfanwy wasn’t yet back from her hunt, the telltale clicks and chirps, and the occasional squawk absent when he listened for them.

Fingers stroked lazily across the middle of his back, first circles, then zigzags, then a pattern Ianto was pretty sure spelled out a word or two. He concentrated, trying to decipher the writing. Jack’s fingers, however, had already gone back to drawing circles.

Ianto loved those fingers. He could freely admit that. The way they held a gun, the way they curled around the handle of a coffee mug, and especially the way they could make him moan Jack’s name every time they worked his body to a fevered pitch.

He groaned, his cock filling as a chuckle rumbled through Jack’s chest.

“Looks like I’m not the only one,” Jack replied, his voice low and full of amusement as his fingers moved on to a spot between Ianto’s shoulder blades that he knew drove the younger man insane.

Ianto’s mouth moved up along Jack’s jaw line, tongue licking, teeth nipping, as Jack’s fingertips ghosted over his shoulders. He pressed into Jack, the older man’s hand cupping the back of his neck and tipping his head towards his for a long, deep kiss. Ianto moaned into Jack’s mouth, his cock frustratingly hard now, insisting upon immediate attention.

“Jack…” he breathed, feeling the arm slip slowly from around him, fingers trailing over along the curve of his hip.

“What do you need, Ianto?” Jack asked him softly. But he already knew the answer. It was unusual for the younger man to awaken during the middle of the night these days, but when he did, he aroused quickly, with just a touch, and needed release hard and fast. “My mouth?” he whispered against the shell of his ear, fingers sliding slowly up Ianto’s inner thigh. “My ass?”

“God, Jack,” Ianto groaned, hips thrusting forward as teeth closed around his earlobe, a tongue soothing the bite. “Please…”

“Shh, I know,” Jack smiled, his fingers tracing the crease in his thigh and then moving under his pants, closing around his shaft, tightening as he tugged upwards. He felt Ianto’s shudder, the arm under his neck circling around his shoulders to move the man closer to him, into his embrace. The fingers of that hand took up the slow caress between Ianto’s shoulders while the other hand closed over the head of his cock, drawing out moisture before slicking back down to slide around him.

Ianto knew it would be quick. When he was this hard, there was no other way. He canted his hips towards Jack’s fist, breath blowing out in little huffs of warm air against Jack’s shoulder as the fingers on his cock worked him harder and faster. He wanted this, needed this. 

Jack knew just how Ianto liked to be touched and just how hard to stroke. Ianto was beginning to whimper, quietly, muffled by his face being buried in Jack’s neck. Jack felt the ache of his own arousal but this wasn’t about him. This was about giving Ianto what he needed.

Ianto had come to him, several weeks after Lisa, seeking warmth and forgiveness. Jack felt his heart shatter when he saw the young man before him, crying, broken, begging for him to let him stay, and took Ianto back to his small room and simply held him until he’d cried himself to sleep. When Ianto woke in the middle of the night with a scream of pure agony Jack was still there, holding him and stroking his hands across his back, reassuring him he was safe.

Ianto had become aroused almost immediately, looking ashamed and tormented. Jack told him it was ok, to relax, and when Ianto kissed him, desperately, Jack didn’t stop him, instead sliding his hand into the man’s pants and jerking him off hard and fast.

The nightmares were all but gone now, but Ianto still awoke every once in a while in the middle of the night, seeking out Jack’s warmth and needing him to quench the fire that subsequently was stoked. And this time was no exception.

Ianto cried Jack’s name into the dark of the room as the hand around him tightened a fraction more, twisting over his head and pumping wetly, causing his cock to erupt in wave after wave of intense pleasure. The arm around his shoulders held him close, nearly on top of Jack, and Ianto clutched desperately at Jack’s t-shirt as his orgasm rolled through him.

Jack held Ianto close for a moment more before sitting up slightly to remove his shirt, using it wipe Ianto gently and clean off his own hand before dropping it to the floor. He would need to wash up, but it could wait. Right now he just wanted to be there for the young man who had curled back up next to him.

“Okay?” Jack asked him, cupping Ianto’s chin and pressing a kiss to his mouth when he got a slight nod as a reply. “Good. Now sleep, Ianto. It’s still early.”

“I know,” Ianto said quietly, snuggling against Jack’s warmth and feeling his hardness press into his stomach. “Jack, do you want me to…”

“No, Ianto, it’s okay. It’ll pass.”

“But…you…”

“Ianto.”

Jack’s eyes met his. It was dark, but Ianto could see enough to know the conversation was officially over. He smiled, getting a smile in return, and sighed when he felt arms close around him once more.

“Thank you, Jack,” he said softly, kissing the hand draped across his shoulder. One of two amazing, talented hands that Ianto fantasized about so often.

“My pleasure, Ianto,” was the reply, punctuated with a warm kiss to his closed eyelids.

Within minutes the young man was fast asleep again, and Jack moved slowly out of the bed and into the small bathroom to clean up. He threw his t-shirt into the laundry bin and ran his hands under the tap, soaping them up and then rinsing quickly. He felt his arousal beginning to subside and toweled off his hands, heading back to the bed where Ianto was sleeping soundly.

He lifted the duvet and slid underneath, wrapping his arms back around the young man and sighing, content. He pressed a kiss to Ianto’s forehead, then another to his soft lips, lingering for just a moment before he rested his head back against the pillow. He loved when Ianto stayed the night. Loved the way he curled into him while he slept.

His eyes widened, heart clenching. He loved Ianto. When did that happen? He smiled, snorting softly, under his breath. Well, it didn’t really matter, did it? He couldn’t pretend it hadn’t crossed his mind to question his own feelings before. Jack knew he wouldn’t have felt so betrayed by Ianto’s actions with his girlfriend if he hadn’t been harboring some pretty deep feelings by that time.

He breathed deeply, letting his eyes drift shut as the man in his arms began to snore softly, and he heard the sounds of Torchwood’s guard dog return to her nest for the day.

“I love you, Ianto,” he whispered, his chest clenching further with the admission. But the words felt good. They felt really, really good.

For the first time in a long time Jack Harkness felt _right_. He might be a fixed point in time, but he was no longer _wrong_.

 

~end~


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